


Memorialize

by tea_petty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, First Time, Hickeys, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23799073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Lukas has his wedding night and frets about the future.
Relationships: Norway (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Memorialize

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr; tea-pettiest

On his wedding night, Lukas watched his reflection in the mirror loosen his tie. Outside, night had fallen - a night wedding, it was beautiful. The ballroom had been nothing short of magnificent, with a glass ceiling that let people see the gentle snow that had started to fall. The panes of glass preserved the fallen snow like rose lace, as if it too, were trying to make their wedding beautiful.

She’d been beautiful too. When he had dipped her back and kissed her, he had watched her eyes take the fairy lights and return something more secret and special, and for a few moments, he thought that’s what the future could hold for them - fairy lights and rose lace windows on the home they’d share.

And of course, maybe for a little while, it could be like that; a little while for Lukas, that is. A whole lifetime, for her.

At the altar he’d felt the other nations’ eyes on his back from his side. 

He knew what they were thinking - how stupid was this man to get married?

The nations seldom did and for good reason - besides the obvious issues of mortality, their work often put them at odds with the very people they were supposed to represent. Not to mention, they were sterile.

Mathias had smiled the entire time, cheering the loudest as the new couple was received. That idiot. That wonderful, supportive idiot.

Francis had been polite, but quiet - which was his equivalent of depressed for him at a wedding. Lukas didn’t have to ask why. The unspokenness of it clung to him anyways.

“What is it, my love?” she’d asked him, her arms wrapping around him from behind, snatching him back from his reveries.

He caught one of her hands and pressed it to her lips. 

“Nothing, min kjæreste.”

He twisted in her arms so he could hold her close and brought her in for a tender kiss. When it broke, he nuzzled close to her and his hands smoothed down from her jaw, down to her shoulders, over to her back, trailing down and feeling the clasps of her dress. This would be a pain in the ass to take off.

Her hands had also begun to rove him, smoothing beneath the lapels of his jacket. He was warm beneath the thin material of his dress shirt. His new wife shyly brushed her fingers over the buttons. He wanted to say something to make her face red – it wasn’t that hard, and he knew that might burn away the melancholy that seemed to follow him like a shadow. She pressed herself to him and kissed him once more.

Or he could just do this instead.

Even through their many, fancy layers, she was warm and soft. 

He’d been waiting so long to see her like this. The thought of finally undressing her to him had heat shooting straight down to his groin. 

He eyed the soft slopes of her, mostly disguised by her gown. 

He held her a little harder, his lips moving more fervently against her. She sighed, and the little noise had his member hardening. 

“Ah, Lukas – “

He swept one deceptively strong arm beneath her and took her up in his arms. The way she clutched at him only reminded him of her frailty. When he tossed her onto the bed, he did so in surrender. 

Whatever might come in the future might come, but here and now, he was going to make love to his wife.

He came to cage her over the bed before the mattress had settled completely. Over her, he ravished her, his mouth on hers was demanding, his tongue in her desperate to drink her up. He could feel the way she heaved and responded to him, her hands at the front of his shirt were fluttered and nervous.

“Mm,” he broke the kiss only long enough to guide her hands. 

“Here,”

She looked at him through half-lidded eyes, beneath the dark fringe of her eyelashes.

“Can I-?”

“I think it’d be pretty hard to do what we’re going to do with clothes on.”

Ah, there it was. Her cheeks flared brightly. The color was so sweet, he could hardly imagine the roses in her cheeks wilting with age.

He kissed her, sampling her blush at his lips, just to show her he was teasing. With trembling hands, she finished undoing the knot at his neck and started unbuttoning his shirt. Lukas shrugged his jacket off and let it fall to the floor. The tremors in her hands grew more violent the more of him she revealed. 

His skin, almost as white as the fabric itself was beautiful, like marble. She couldn’t resist trailing her fingers down the expanse of his chest. 

Simultaneously firm and soft. As her fingers reached the fine, blonde hair that trailed down his lower torso and disappeared beneath his trousers, she noticed the tent at his crotch. Heat gathered between her thighs, and suddenly her dress felt uncomfortably heavy.

He was able to shrug his shirt off without breaking their kiss. 

He peppered kisses across the ridge of her jaw and went to her neck. She gasped, and arched into him.

“Are you nervous?” the comment was a whisper, and as his breath fanned across her sensitive skin she shuddered into him.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Of?”

He enjoyed her timidness if he was being honest. It made him feel like her protector – that’s what he agreed to, wasn’t it? To be her fiercest protector? 

An image of himself buried in her flashed in his mind and made him relish her shyness all the more. She was his, and he was hers; to love and cherish and protect.

She hesitated.

“Min skatt?”

“Of you seeing me, I suppose. All of me.” Her voice sounded small.

As she said this, his hands were running up along her sides. 

They slunk up her back and lingered at the hooks and ribbons there.

He eased himself off of her.

“Sit up,” he murmured.

She complied, and he gathered her again in his arms and brought her onto his lap. Her skirt rode up a little, and she crossed her legs, feeling the wetness in her panties. 

He brought her to his chest and crushed her into a gentle hug. 

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Outside of the bedroom, she was strong. Tough. 

He was the one who was thought to be meek, having a dislike of strangers. Behind closed doors though, it was he who tended to her. 

His arms wrapped around her went up to start at the complicated bindings at the back of her dress. He had done this enough times before, throughout his long, long life, that he hadn’t needed to look – though he’d never tell her that. 

After a few moments, she felt her dress loosen around her, and as he tugged it off, she lifted herself above him to help. Now, just in her slip, she could feel his erection press against her ass. 

His hands ran up and down her body again, feeling the shape of her from beneath the silky, thin fabric. She lifted her head to look at him, and then she crashed her lips into his, pinching her eyes shut. He could see her face was still red, as she blindly groped for one of his hands and guided it to her breast.

He squeezed and both of their arousals flared. Through the dainty lace, he could feel the hardened peak of her breast.

She was still kissing him when he gently looped the straps off her shoulders. It slipped down with almost no effort. He gently raised her again to get it past her butt.

Her arms came up to cross over her chest and this was when he eased her back down onto the bed again. He returned to her neck and his hands took a break from trying to bear her to him. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her. He marveled at how soft she felt against his bare skin.

“Are you cold?”

She gasped when he nipped at her neck.

“No.”

He soothed it with a kiss and then latched on again, sucking gently. 

She moaned openly, her hands scrabbling for a grip around his shoulders.

When he pulled back, he’d left a petal-like bruise at her neck. These flowers would fade too. He felt bittersweet, meanwhile, her hands went back up to cover herself.

He pressed a kiss at her shoulder and then further down. He nibbled lightly at the ridge of her collarbone, his tongue darting out to trace the divot.

He kissed the beginning of her sternum and felt her stiffen.

“Elskede,” he tugged gently at her arms. “let me see the rest of you.”

She relinquished her grip and let him lead her hands away. His hands went back to her breasts and cupped them gently, thumbs stroking at the nipples. He kissed the valley between them, his nose nuzzling the side of one before his mouth latched on, as he did to her neck. He sucked and she moaned, unwittingly rocking her hips against him. 

His hands took pause from her breasts momentarily to hitch her legs at his hips. He squeezed at her plush thighs and then they returned to her chest. 

When he shifted so that he could catch a nipple between his lips, he found that he’d left another mark. The thought of her being branded as his with his own mouth stoked his arousal. 

His tongue teased at the stiff peak and her arm came up to her lips in an attempt to muffle the desperate whimper that threatened to escape.

He wished she wouldn’t; one lifetime wasn’t enough to capture the noises she made under his ministrations. She was better than anything he could’ve imagined and heavenly soft.

At the underside of a breast, he sucked and left another hickey. 

She was speckled in the petal-like marks he left behind. These flowers would also fade with time, but he could always make more. Love was a garden, someone old and probably long dead said, and his wife was one too.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

He immortalized her in his memory.


End file.
